


Too Perfect

by noladyme



Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noladyme/pseuds/noladyme
Summary: The road so far…Deadly nightmares. Immortal countesses. Lulu thought she’d seen it all since she’d first met the Winchester brothers. Extreme circumstances pushed her into the arms of the eldest brother, Dean – and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of him since.Now back to her every day life of bartending and the occasional visit from a certain angel, what will happen when she finally sees Dean again? Is there still a connection – or was it all in their heads?Our story continues in season 5
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007559
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

8 years ago.

Night shift again. Luckily, it’s a slow one tonight. Only a few guests strewn across the place.  
“Lulu!”, Ricky calls from the kitchen. “Order’s up for 13”.  
“13 is Janice’s table”, I answer.  
“She called in sick again”, he shrugs.  
Dammit. I know it’s because it’s her boyfriend’s home from college.  
I walk over to the serving hatch; grabbing a large order of bacon, and a slice of cherry pie. Weird order for dinner, but who am I to judge. I’ll gladly throw back some jalapeño poppers at any time of day.  
I walk over to table 13 with the order; placing the two plates in front of a dark-haired man, who’s in a deep conversation on his phone.  
“… no, Dean. Silver. Iron won’t do anything, I told you… yeah…”. I begin to walk away. “Miss?”.  
I turn around.  
The man at the table is looking at me. He’s cute, in an older guy kind of way. Much too old for me, but a girl can dream.  
“Can you top off my coffee?”, he asks, covering the mic on the phone. I smile, and nod; going to get the freshly brewed pot from the machine behind the counter.  
I look down at my uniform, cursing myself that I didn’t chose the one that was just a tiny bit shorter, to show off my legs.  
As I walk back towards the table, I hear the man continuing his conversation.  
“Well read up!... Yes. Latin… No, I didn’t call him. If he wants to talk, he has my number… Ok. Call me when it’s finished”.  
He hangs up, as I pour some fresh coffee into his mug.  
“Kids, right?”, he mutters with a smile, before looking up and meeting my eyes. “Though, you’re probably a bit young to have any of those yourself”.  
I blush slightly.  
“Yeah… not really there yet”.  
The man gives me a once over. His gaze isn’t leering, but it is appreciative – and I stifle a smile.  
“You must have someone out there willing to give you a few little ones”, he says. He takes a sip from his coffee. “You in college?”.  
“Saving up for it”, I smile. “Leave me a nice tip, and I’ll get there even sooner”.  
He chuckles. His voice is warm, and his caramel eyes glinting with amusement.  
“Tell you what. Get me another dollop of cream for the pie, and I’ll make that happen”, he says.  
I wink at him and walk away.  
“Are you flirting with Daddy over there?”, Ricky jeers, as I come over to grab some cream.  
“Serving my way to the top”, I chuckle. “He seems nice. Nothing else”.  
“Sure thing, Lulu”, Ricky smiles.  
I go back to table 13; and put a large dollop of cream on the man’s pie.  
“There you go, sir. Enjoy”.  
“Thanks, Lulu”, he smiles. I wrinkle my brows. “Your name tag”, he grins.  
“Oh!”, I giggle. “Yeah”.  
He has a leather-bound journal in front of him. The page is opened to a picture of a pretty blonde woman.  
“Your wife?”, I ask. He looks up at me with a slight grimace. “Sorry… Not any of my business”.  
“No, it’s fine… Yeah. My wife”, he mutters.  
“She’s pretty”, I say. “Must have made those kids of yours some kind of beautiful”.  
“They’re not half bad”, he chuckles. “Good boys. Don’t see them too often. Work”.  
“Oh… too bad. They with your wife?”.  
He shakes his head.  
“No… she passed some years ago”.  
I frown.  
“Sorry to hear that”, I say quietly.  
“Me too… thanks for the cream”, he says.  
That’s my cue to leave. I flash him a bright smile, and saunter off.  
“Oh, Lulu?”, the man calls after me.  
“Yes, sir?”, I ask.  
“Have you heard about those cattle mutilations, out at that farm?”.  
I frown.  
“No more than what was in the news… why?”.  
He shakes his head.  
“Never mind… Just… if you do hear anything, could you give me a call?”.  
I blush again.  
“I don’t have your number, sir”.  
He pulls out a note from his pocket, and scribbles something down on it – then hands it to me.  
It’s a twenty-dollar bill, with a phone number now written at the bottom.  
“This is way too much, sir!”, I gasp.  
“Keep it. As a thanks for friendly conversation. And it’s John”, he smiles.  
His phone rings, and he picks it up.  
“Bobby?... Yeah… I’ll be there”. He hangs it up. “Can you pack this to go?”, he says to me in a rushed tone.  
I run to grab a to-go box; and quickly pack up his food, handing it to him, as he gathers the papers he’s strewn upon the table.  
“Here you go, John. Have a nice evening”, I smile.  
His tense body language relaxes a bit.  
“I will. Thanks, Lou”. He hands me another twenty. “Keep the change”.  
I let out a short laugh.  
“This is still too much”, I say.  
He tilts his head.  
“My youngest is in college. I know it’s expensive… Keep it. And take care”.  
He puts on his coat, and leaves the diner.  
\---

Now…

Hurricanes. Successful nuclear tests in North Korea. Terrorists attacks on convents. Swine flu.  
The world seemed to be coming to an end – and I was wiping down a bar-counter in Denver.  
“I’m off”, our newest bartender – Pete – called out to me. “That offer of coffee still stands, Lulu”.  
I smiled.  
“Thanks, Pete; but I have plans”, I said. “Grab the trash, would you?”.  
He nodded, and grabbed two large bags; heading towards the back door. He winked at me; and closed the door behind him.  
Avoiding the dark spot on the floor we hadn’t been able to remove, after my encounter with Erzsebet; I walked over to the door Pete had gone through, and locked it.  
I didn’t really have plans; but going on a date with a coworker wasn’t high on my list of wants.

I checked my phone. The only message was a picture of Raul and Chad on their honeymoon. The two men had worked fast after Raul had avoided murder charges 6 months earlier.  
Once Chad had healed from the surgery to get rid of his little extra asset; he’d dropped down on one knee on a busy night at Buddy’s – and with tearstained cheeks, Raul had accepted his proposal.  
I’d been the maid of honor to both men – dateless, I might add; as the only man I wanted at my side at a romantic ceremony joining two paramours, was somewhere driving across the states, trying to hunt down monsters and ghosts – or stopping Armageddon; I wasn’t sure at this point.

Dean hadn’t been in touch for months. Not in person, anyway. I understood he was busy, but it hurt not to know where he was – and if he was ok.

Arriving at my small studio apartment that night, I brushed my fingers over the carving on my door – sending a warm thought at the two men who’d saved my life twice.  
Once inside, I got in my comfiest leggings, socks, tank top and cardigan; and went to read my current book – one about witchcraft and hoodoo. It was the middle of the night; but my sleep schedule as a bartender didn’t exactly make me a day person.  
I began reading from the part I’d gotten to, and sipping at a mug of cocoa.

There was a knock at the door. I glanced at the wall clock. 3 am.  
Looking through the peephole, I sighed, and slowly opened the door.

“Hello, Lulu”.  
“Hi, Castiel”, I said quietly. “Thanks for knocking this time”.  
The angel smiled gently.  
“Well, last time you were… undressed”.  
I moved out of the way, so Castiel could step into my apartment.  
“Yeah. Literally in the shower as well. I would have offered you a towel, but…”.  
“You were busy punching my face, and putting a knee to my groin”, the angel said.  
I chuckled.

Closing the door behind the angel, I went to sit on my couch again.  
Castiel had been coming around every few weeks – just for a few minutes – apparently to check on me.  
“So, as you can see, I’m alive”, I muttered. “Are they?”.  
Cass nodded.  
“They are working on… something”.  
“Vague as ever”, I smiled sarcastically. “He has my number. He could just call me”.

Castiel frowned.  
“I’ve come to take you with me…”, he said.  
I stood up, and held out my hands to stop him.  
“Whoa! No… Every time you do your… angel teleportation thing on me, I end up in some random place, without my shoes. And it gives me motion sickness”.  
“I’ve only done it twice; and one of the times, it saved your life”.  
I sighed.  
“Yeah, fine… but still. No thank you”.  
He stepped towards me.  
“I’m afraid I must insist”, he said.  
“Why?”, I frowned.

There was another knock at my door. I stepped over to check the peephole; but Cass held out to stop me.  
The knocking turned in to a pounding.  
“That’s why”, he said. “They found you”.  
My eyes widened.  
“Who?”, I breathed. “Who found me?”.

Castiel put his hand on my shoulder; and we were standing in front of a lit fireplace. My stomach was churning.  
“Lulu?”, a voice said.  
With wide eyes, I turned around, and saw Bobby Singer – seated in a wheelchair – looking at me in wonder.  
“I got her before they took her. You can take it from here”, Castiel said; and was gone.  
I looked down.  
“You forgot my shoes again!”, I snarled.

Bobby smiled at me.  
“How are you, kid?”, he asked.  
“Very confused”, I admitted.  
“Yeah, he does that”, Bobby said. “So, do I get a hug?”.

I grinned, and ran over to embrace the man; who – the last time I’d seen him – was standing.  
“What happened?”, I asked.  
Bobby shook his head.  
“Demon…”, he grunted.  
I laughed.  
“Demon…”, I said. Bobby raised a brow at me. “Seriously?”.  
Bobby gave me a crooked smile.  
“It’s a whole new world, darlin’”. He patted my arm; not able to reach my cheek from the chair. “I’ll have the guys fill you in when they get back”.  
I swallowed hard.  
“They’re here?”, I croaked.  
“About 30 minutes out. Coffee?”.  
“Please…”, I said, and followed him to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from a shelf.

Bobby poured us both a mug of coffee, and I went to sit on a couch in the living room/study/something that looked like a place a fortune teller might set up shop.  
Bobby rolled over to face me.  
“How have you been?”, he asked. “I heard about what happened in Denver…”.  
I pulled up the sleeves of my cardigan, and ran my fingers over the slight scars there.  
“Turns out my boss was really sorry he hadn’t paid for security, and let a deranged serial killer get at his favorite employee; as he called me”, I grinned. “I think he was just worried I’d sue him. But he paid my doctors bill, and for a plastic surgeon to make the scars less visible”.  
Bobby winced.  
“Looks like you went through it”, he said. “I’m happy you’re better”.  
“Yeah”, I smiled. “No permanent damage, save for the occasional person thinking I cut myself on purpose”.

“Bobby!”, a voice called out – a voice I recognized immediately, and made my heart skip a beat.  
“In here”, Bobby answered.  
“We got scotch. Liquor store was out of bourbon”, Sam said, as he stepped into the living room.  
His eyes widened when he saw me; and he ran over to embrace me – lifting me off my feet in a warm hug.  
I heard the front door close.  
“Dude, are you gonna make me carry everything?”, Dean growled, and dropped two plastic bags on the kitchen table.  
Sam put me down.  
“Dean”, he muttered.  
“What?”, Dean grunted; and turned around.

His face went through a range of emotions – before, with three long strides; he stepped over to me. Just as I thought he was about to take me in his arms, he pulled out a knife.  
“Did you check her?”, he growled.  
“She came in with Cass”, Bobby said.  
“Did you check her!”, Dean repeated.  
Sam sighed, and handed me a flask.  
“Take a sip”, he said.  
I frowned – taken aback by the cold reception from the man I’d spent months missing.  
“What is it?”, I asked; looking at the knife in Deans hand.  
“Holy water. Just drink it”, Sam muttered.

With a cold look at Dean, I grabbed the flask, and drank the liquid inside.  
Dean looked at me for a few seconds; and seemingly satisfied I wasn’t going to burn up in flames or melt – or whatever it was he’d expected – he put away the knife.  
“Lulu…”, he muttered. “Cass brought you?”.  
“Just a little while ago”, I said quietly. “Thanks for the warm welcome, by the way”.  
Dean clenched his jaw in anger.  
“Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to bring you here”, he growled.  
“Maybe he was sensing how grumpy you’ve been”, Bobby grunted in response.

Dean did look extremely grumpy. And tired.  
“Sorry, Lou… This isn’t a good time”, he said.  
I made a scoffing laugh.  
“Well, just call Castiel. I’m sure he can take me back to my apartment”.  
“No”, he said. “You can’t go back there right now”.  
“Why?”, I sneered.

Sam cleared his throat.  
“Angels… and demons… They’re using the people we care about to get to us”.  
I shook my head in confusion.  
“I’m sorry, what?”.  
Dean sighed.  
“We got wind that they were coming to nab you. I asked Cass to bring you somewhere safe”, he said. “Not here”.  
I shrugged; trying not to seem hurt about Dean’s standoffishness.  
“So, what happens now?”, I said.  
“What happens now, is you stay here”, Bobby said.  
“Bobby!”, Dean snarled.

Bobby rolled his eyes.  
“Keep your pants on, Dean”, he sneered. “And I mean literally. At least until we’ve left the room”. He rolled towards us. “You don’t think we’ve noticed how you’ve been missing this girl?”.  
Dean met my eyes for a second.  
“It’s not safe”.  
“It’s never safe, son”, Bobby said. “But this place is warded better than any other I know. As long as Lulu doesn’t leave, she should be fine. And maybe you can get that stick out of your ass, and be able to do the job”.  
Dean scoffed.  
“So, now I can’t do the job?”, he grunted.  
“Not well”, Sam muttered.  
“You…”, Dean said; pointing at his brother. “Shut up!”.

I sighed and looked at Sam.  
“You said you brought alcohol?”, I muttered. “Give it”.  
Dean shook his head.  
“No”, he said. “No alcohol. Call Rufus. Have him take her”.  
“I’m really feeling the romance in the room”, Bobby grunted. “I’m beat. Going to bed”. He rolled out the door, and down the hallway.  
“And I’m going to go… away from here”, Sam said; almost running for the stairs.  
Dean and I stood for a moment in silence; before I stepped towards the kitchen.  
“Well, I’m having a drink”, I said.

Suddenly, his hand was on my wrist, and he pulled me towards him – wrapping me in his arms. I couldn’t fight the urge; and embraced him right back.  
“Are you ok?”, he breathed.  
“Yeah… just confused”, I muttered.  
Dean pulled back a bit, and looks me in the eyes.  
“You’re here… I should have… I don’t know what to say”.

“Try an I’m sorry!”, Bobby called from down the hall.

Dean looked towards the hallway, and frowned.  
“I’m sorry”, he muttered. “I know that’s probably not the welcome you had expected”.  
“I don’t know…”, I grunted. “It’s not the first time you pulled a knife on me”.  
“Yeah… sorry. Again”.  
I sighed.  
“Can open a window, and let in some air? This place smells like old farts”.  
He smiled slightly.  
“Hex bags. We made some earlier. The smell goes away after a while… How have you been?”, he asked.  
“Fine… I guess. It took a while to heal properly since… last time”, I said.  
Dean frowned.  
“But you’re better. Right?”.  
I nodded.  
“I’m… living. Moving on”.  
“Good”, he said. “That’s… good. That you’re moving on, I mean”.

He cleared his throat, and let go of me. The separation was almost painful.  
“Thanks for checking in, by the way…”, I said. “Castiel’s been a real hoot”.  
Dean didn’t meet my eyes.  
“I should have called”.  
“Yeah, you should have”, I muttered.  
“You didn’t call either…”, he said; a slight accusation in his voice.  
I looked at him in indignation.  
“You told me you were going out to stop the devil”, I said. “I didn’t figure I should be the one to check in”.

I sat back down on the couch and yawned.  
“Let me go put away the groceries, and I’ll show you where to sleep afterwards”, he said.  
“Sounds good”, I said quietly.  
I pulled my legs up under me, and leant my head against the armrest. The smell of the hex bags had dulled; and I now noticed another scent – one of gunpowder, wood and metal. The hunter smell, I thought to myself.  
My eyes began drooping, and the last thing I noticed was a soft kiss to my temple, and a blanket being tucked around me.

“Goodnight, Lou”, Dean whispered.

\---

The sun hitting my face woke me up.  
“Mornin’ kid”, Bobby muttered from his table. “Fresh coffee on the pot”.  
“Thanks”, I rasped. I got off the couch, and stretched. “Where are the guys?”, I asked.  
“Checking on a lead”, Bobby grunted. “Grab me a cup?”.

I went into the kitchen, and filled two mugs with coffee; bringing one over to the desk.  
“Demon stuff?”, I asked.  
Bobby shook his head.  
“Ghost”, he said. “Yankton…”.  
I frowned.  
“Yankton… I’m in South Dakota?”, I asked.  
“Yeah… you’re about 600 miles from home”, he said.  
“Well, that’s just great”, I muttered. “And this is your place?”.  
“Singer Scrap”, he nodded. “Good cover”. A scrapyard owner. I knew it, I smiled to myself.

I looked over the many books and papers strewn about the room. A row of phones were hanging on the wall; each with a sticker on it, letting Bobby know what persona he’d need to take on when he picked up.  
The was an old cookie-tin filled with different fake id’s – FBI, Wild Life Service, Sheriff’s badges; the list went on.

“You have a pretty bad-ass setup here, Bobby”, I said. “Also 100% illegal I’m guessing”.  
“This job isn’t exactly easy to do if you follow the rules”, Bobby said.  
I sighed.  
“Is there anything I can help with?”, I asked.  
“What, are you bored?”, Bobby smiled.  
“Yes”, I nodded.  
“You can make lunch; it’s almost noon”, he said.  
“I don’t cook… but I know how to order a pizza”.  
Bobby frowned.  
“I’ll call the boys, have them bring something back”.  
I shrugged.

Bobby narrowed his eyes at me.  
“Did you… uhm… kiss and make up last night?”, he muttered.  
I chewed my lip.  
“Not exactly… He seemed preoccupied”, I said.  
Bobby chuckled.  
“That’s Dean for you”, he said. “Always so busy trying to save everyone else, he doesn’t see when his own salvation is staring him right in the face”.  
“I don’t know if I’m a salvation, exactly”, I said. “I’m a bartender from Denver with a teaching degree”.  
“Maybe you can teach him some manners”, Bobby grunted and returned to his document. “Grab me that magnifying glass over there”, he said, and pointed towards the coffee table.

I handed him the magnifier, and picked up an amulet that caught my eye. It was almost glowing in the sunlight.  
“Put that down”, Bobby yelled. I almost jumped, and dropped the chain to the table. “Sorry”, he muttered. “I haven’t been able to break the curse on it yet… and I’m pretty sure you’d be a lot less pretty with an extra nose stuck to your chin”.  
“It’s cursed?”, I asked. “Maybe you should lock it up somewhere”.  
“Tried that”, he grunted. “It reappears there every time I do”.  
I studied the amulet closer.  
“Hoodoo, right?”, I muttered.  
Bobby looked at me.  
“Is it?”, he asked.  
“I think so… It looks like a sigil I saw once, in a book”, I said. Maybe cover it in goofer dust, and bury it in an old grave…”. I met his incredulous eyes, and blushed. “Or, something else. I don’t know”.

He narrowed his eyes at me.  
“What do you make of this?”, he asked, and pushed an old newspaper clipping across the table. I read through the text.  
“Another strange case of a dead body in Yankton this month, when Thomas Clayton was found near Yankton Municipal Cemetary – his neck broken; and his lower body buried into the ground. He leaves behind a wife and two children…”.  
“Sounds like a myling”, I muttered.  
Bobby frowned.  
“How’d you know about those?”, he asked.  
“I read… a lot”, I replied.  
He looked at me disbelievingly.  
“You call studying Scandinavian ghosts leisurely reading?”.  
“I was almost killed by two supernatural beings”, I shrugged. “Thought I’d study up in case anything happened again”.  
“Huh…”, Bobby said. “So, you think it’s a myling”.  
“I’m no pro, so I wouldn’t know for sure”, I said. “But the half-buried thing? And just outside a cemetery… More like he was forced to carry a ghost on his back; but didn’t make it to hallowed ground”. The corner of Bobby’s lip raised in a crooked smile. “But you already knew that”.  
“Was beginning to come to that theory myself”, he said. “You have some knowledge in that head of yours, kid”.  
I blushed again.

There was a knock at the door. I looked through the kitchen window.  
Outside stood a darkhaired policewoman.  
“It’s the cops”, I muttered.  
“Crap”, Bobby groaned. “Woman? Looks like she eats nails for breakfast?”.  
I looked again.  
“Yup…”.  
Bobby began rolling away from the view of the windows.  
“I’m not here”, he said.  
I shook my head.  
“Fine, I’ll talk to her”, I said, and walked to the front door, opening it.

“Hello”, I smiled at the woman.  
She looked mistrustingly at me.  
“Miss… I’m sheriff Mills. Is Bobby Singer in?”.  
I shook my head.  
“He’s out…”.  
“Out cold?”, she grunted. “Bobby! Roll your ass out here”.

Bobby appeared behind me.  
“Sheriff…”, he grunted. “What did I do this time?”.  
The sheriff sighed.  
“Your neighbors have been reporting strange smells from your house”.  
“Stranger than usual? This is a scrap yard, sheriff”, I smiled.  
She narrowed her eyes at me.  
“And you are?”.  
I thought fast.  
“Ann Wilson”, I said brightly; and reached out my hand to shake hers.  
“My niece”, Bobby said. “She’s staying with me to help out since my accident”.  
“All right…”, the sheriff said. “If you say so”.

I cleared my throat.  
“You were saying? About strange smells…”.  
“Yes”, the sheriff said. “You can’t be polluting the air with methane gas, Bobby. Your neighbors say the smell was so rancid, their eyes watered”.  
Bobby sighed.  
“Look, my nearest neighbor is 3 miles away. If any of them have been reporting any smells, it means they’ve been trespassing – and I’d be in my right to shoot them”.  
The sheriff clenched her jaw.  
“With what weapon? I don’t believe you have a license”.  
“I do”, I said.  
She lifted her brows.  
“Can I see it?”.  
I smiled.  
“I never mentioned a gun, or using one for that matter. So, you don’t need to”. She stifled a smile. Under different circumstances, I might have liked her. “If there’s nothing else, uncle Bobby needs to have his lunch now”.

“All right”, sheriff Mills said. “Just, keep down the stench, all right?”.  
“Absolutely”, I smiled. “Goodbye, sheriff”.  
She walked off the porch, and got in her car. I waved as she drove away.  
I turned to look at Bobby.  
“That was fun!”, I grinned.  
“Yeah, a real giggle of a time”, Bobby grunted, and went back into the living room.

One of the phones rang – one labeled CDC.  
Bobby picked it up.  
“Fisher here… Yes, he’s one of mine. He in some kind of trouble?... That’s ridiculous, son… No, you listen to me. Let him finish his job… Put him on”. I heard him mutter idjit below his breath. “Garth? You moron. You told them it was a strain of the plague?... Yeah… Give him back to me”. There was a pause. “Officer. Agent Fitzgerald is right. Let him look at the autopsy report… Thank you. Bye”. He hung up. “Stupid son of a bitch”.  
I chuckled.

Bobby began rolling towards his desk, when another phone rang – the one labeled FBI.  
I looked at him pleadingly.  
“Be my guest…”, he grunted. I picked it up.

“Nicks here”, I said.  
“Yes, hello ma’am. This is detective Alan Jackson from the Yankton PD”, a tired voice said. “I have two men here claiming to be FBI…”.  
My eyes lit up.  
“Let me guess. One is a 6’3 puppy, and the other looks like he’d flirt with your daughter right in front of you, and not be ashamed of it?”.  
“That sounds about right”, the man muttered.  
“Yeah, those are mine”, I said. “What’s the problem?”.  
“They want to examine the body of…”.  
“Thomas Clayton?”, I asked.  
“Yes…”, the man said.  
“And what seems to be the problem?”, I asked.  
“Well they don’t have the right papers to begin with”, he answered.  
“The FBI rolls into town, asking to oversee a murder-case, and you refuse them?”, I said. “Won’t look good on your yearly report, detective Jackson”.  
“Ma’am…”, the man began.  
“Look, I don’t have time for this. Put me on with your captain”.  
Bobby’s eyes widened, and he shook his head fervently.  
“Ma’am, I’m sure that won’t be necessary…”, the detective muttered.  
I scoffed.  
“No? Well, you’re not being very forthcoming with my men…”.  
“I’ll let them look, ma’am. Right away”.  
“Thank you. Please put the pretty one on”, I said.  
“Your boss wants you”, the man muttered, and I heard the phone change hands. “Hello?”, I heard Deans voice.  
“Speaker?”, I asked.  
“No”, he grunted.  
“Good. Bring back lunch. Bobby’s hungry”, I said.  
“Yes, ma’am”, Dean grunted, and hung up.

I put the phone back on its hook.  
“That was even more fun”, I grinned.  
Bobby chuckled.  
“You could come in handy, Lulu”, he smiled. “Good job”.  
“Thanks”, I said. “Bobby… you wouldn’t happen to have some shoes laying around I could use?”.

\---

A few hours later Dean and Sam came back from Yankton. Dean looked like a thundercloud.

“What the hell, Bobby?”, he growled. “You have Lulu doing jobs now?”.  
“Just this one”, he smiled. “And she’s done a fine job, as well”.  
Dean stepped towards me with and gave me a searing look.  
“You don’t ever do that again!”, he roared.  
“Why?”, I frowned.  
“You could have had us thrown in jail!”, he said.  
“Horse crap”, I said. “You were fine”.

Sam put down some cardboard boxes on the coffee table.  
“We brought pizza”, he said. Bobby groaned. “We were in a rush”, Sam muttered.  
I grabbed a slice, and sat down on the couch; putting my feet on the table.  
Dean looked at me with hard eyes.  
“Comfy?”, he grunted.  
“Very”, I smiled.  
He cursed below his breath.

“Lulu’s got a theory on the ghost”, Bobby said.  
Sam looked at me with pleased surprise.  
“Really?”, he asked. “Tell us”.  
“A myling”, I said. “An unwanted child, killed by its parents; and buried in non-consecrated ground”.  
Dean frowned. I handed him a slice of pizza, and he accepted it without thanks.  
“A mew-what?”, he asked.  
“Myling”, Bobby said. “Tell ‘em, Lulu”.

I took a bite, and chewed enthusiastically.  
“It crawls onto people’s backs; wanting them to bring it to consecrated ground to rest”, I said; mouth full. “Usually, the weight of it on the victims back will make him or her sink into the ground before they make it all the way. The ghost will be pissed, and kill them – strangling them or breaking their necks”.  
“How do you know this stuff?”, Sam smiled.  
“She reads… a lot…”, Bobby muttered.

Dean looked at Bobby’s desk.  
“Where’s the cursed amulet?”, he grunted.  
“Covered it in goofer dust, and buried it out back with my old dog”, Bobby said. “Well, Lulu did”.  
I smiled, and wiggled my feet – on which I was wearing a pair of old loafers Bobby’s wife had used when she was alive.

“You shouldn’t be meddling with any of this”, Dean growled.  
I shrugged.  
“Your pet angel kidnapped me, and brought me 600 miles away; without my shoes or my phone. Might as well keep busy”.  
“Don’t you need to go to work?”, Dean grunted.  
“Yeah, like 3 hours ago”, I admitted. “I’m probably fired”.  
Dean frowned.  
“And you don’t care?”  
I looked at him exasperatedly.  
“Of course I care, Dean. My whole life is in Denver”, I sneered. “But you’re also telling me that angels and demons are out to kill me. Being there right now would just bring people in danger. I’m staying away… To keep them safe”.

Dean raised a brow at me. I realized then that’s what he had been doing. In his own way.  
“I called Cass. He’s gonna take you somewhere safe”, he said.  
I frowned.  
“Bobby said…”.  
“You’re leaving, Lou”, he said. “That’s final”.

“She can’t…”, Castiel – who’d appeared from nowhere – said.  
“Cass!”, Dean growled. “Get her out of here!”  
“There’s no where I can take her”, the angel replied. “You wanted her safe. She is safe here”.  
“Hardly”, Dean said. “We’re up to our necks on this case, and Ironside over there can’t even get off his porch on his own”. He gestured towards Bobby.

Bobby frowned at him.  
“Where do you want her to go, son?”, he asked. “Rufus is buried in vamps in Wichita, Martin’s in the psych ward… Ellen and Jo? That’s the only people I’d trust her to be safe enough with; and they’re dead!”.  
Darkness ghosted Deans face.  
“Lulu is safest here, Dean”, Sam said.

Dean shook his head, and looked everywhere but at me.  
“If you didn’t come to take her away, why the hell are you here, Cass?”, he snarled.  
“To give you this”, Castiel said. He pulled out a knife I recognized as being an angel sword.  
“We already have one of those”, Sam said.  
Cas shook his head.  
“It’s not for you, it’s for her”.

Castiel went to hand me the knife. Dean stepped between us.  
“Whoa… no, no, no. That’s not happening”.  
“Excuse me?”, I frowned.  
He looked at me indignantly.  
“You’re not gonna be walking around with a heavenly weapon in your purse”, he said.

I put down my pizza, and stood up – fully ready to smack him across the face.  
“I’m a grown ass woman, Dean. I can make my own decisions”.  
“Not this one”, he grunted. “You can’t even shoot a gun”.  
“I can shoot a damn gun; I told you!”.  
“And fight with an angel sword?”, he asked indignantly.

He took the sword from Castiel.  
“I’m keeping this. Having two is always handy”.  
“Dean, Lulu needs to be able to protect herself from my brothers”, Castiel said.  
“No”, Dean said.  
I stepped up to him; and looked him square in the face.  
“Give me my sword, Dean…”, I snarled.  
“Take it”, he smiled; and held the sword over his head – knowing full well I wouldn’t jump for it like some child.  
I looked at him with sad eyes.  
“I really don’t want to do this…”, I muttered.  
Dean chuckled.

I walked behind him, pretending to give up.  
“Good call, sweetheart”, he muttered.  
Quickly setting my foot between his own from behind, my knee between his; I crouched, leant forward, snaked my arm across his torso – and flipped him backward over my thigh – making him land with a bang on his back.  
“Ow…”, he gasped.  
“Roller derby”, I growled; and snatched the sword from him. “Thanks, Castiel”, I muttered.

The three men still standing, all looked at me in surprise. Sam bit his lips to stop from laughing.  
“Not funny, Sam!”, Dean growled from the floor.  
“Dude, she just railed your ass!”, his brother grinned.

Dean got on his feet, and stretched his back.  
“Fine!”, he roared. “Take the damn sword… That was cheating, though”.  
“Might have earnt me a penalty back in the day; but still my favorite move”, I muttered. “You’re just pissed you got beaten by a girl”.  
“That has nothing to do with it”, he frowned. “Women can fight…”.  
“I just can’t, is that it?”.  
He shook his head in indignation.  
“We’ll talk about this later”, he grunted coldly. “We have a case to get back to”. I smiled. “No, Lou. We have a case. You don’t”. I rolled my eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar. That’s what’s happening”.

I went into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge – opening it, and taking a large sip.  
Castiel walked over to join me.  
“I take it you haven’t had intercourse yet”, he muttered.  
I grimaced at him.  
“Cass. Stay out of my sex-life. Ok?”.  
He nodded, looking almost embarrassed.  
“I just meant – seeing as Dean is still in a bad mood – you must not have…”.  
“Stop”, I said, and held out a hand at him. “You’ve done plenty of damage as it is”.  
“I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intention”.  
I sighed.  
“I know… you were just trying to help”. I looked up at him. “Look, Cass…”. He was gone.

I couldn’t help but feel bad about how I’d spoken to him. He was a friend – not just to Dean and Sam – but also to me.

\---

The three hunters spent the next hours researching mylings; and it seemed Dean had to relent and agree that I had been right.

“So how do we get rid of it”, he grunted.  
I was seated on a kitchen chair, pretending to read a book on the with trials of Salem.  
“Salt and burn, like every other spirit”, Sam offered.  
“Yeah, except we have no idea where the kid is buried”, Dean said. “Bobby? Any ideas?”.

The elder hunter looked towards me.  
“She knows more about them than any of us…”, he muttered.  
“Yeah, well; she’s not a hunter”, Dean grunted.  
“Just, give it a rest, Dean…”, Sam sighed. “Get over yourself, and let Lulu help”.  
Dean rolled his eyes.  
“Roll your eyes all you want, sugar…”, I sneered.  
“Just… help us out here, kid”, Bobby said.

I stood up, and walked over to the desk.  
“Putting the spirit to rest by salting and burning sound good enough. But you could also just give it what it wants”.  
Sam narrowed his eyes.  
“What do you mean? Carry it to the graveyard”.  
“I don’t think you need to throw yourself into the fire this time, Sam”, I smiled; remembering how he’d almost let himself get killed by the maren, who had been haunting my dreams when we first met. “Find it’s parents…”.  
“They’re probably dead too…”, Bobby said.  
I shrugged.  
“Can’t you, like… summon them?”, I asked.

Dean scoffed, and chuckled.  
“Great idea; except that’s impossible”.  
“It’s not…”, Bobby said. “There are ways”.  
“Of course there are…”, Dean snarled. “Why don’t you three do this job, and I’ll go hit a bar. Don’t seem like you need me here anyway”.  
“Dean…”, Sam began.  
“No, really; Sammy. Go ahead. Looks like Lou’s got this one”, Dean said.  
He grabbed his jacket, and left the house.

“I’ll go talk to him”, Sam muttered.  
“No, I will”, I said. “This is on me”.  
Sam nodded, and I went out the front door.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far…  
> Seeing Dean again wasn’t the warm reunion Lulu had imagined. Standoffish and cold, the eldest Winchester brother seems to want her anywhere else but near him.  
> Is he trying to protect her? Or himself…

7 years ago

Slow night at the diner again. Tips aren’t going to be great; but I need the hours.  
“Order up for 13!”, Ricky calls from the hatch. I go over to grab the plates.  
Bacon and pie. I chuckle, and walk over to table 13 with the order.  
“You know, 13 is supposed to be an unlucky number, John”, I smile. “You shouldn’t pick the same table every time you come in”.  
A pair of caramel eyes meet mine.  
“I got a rabbit’s foot stashed away. I have all the luck I need”, he smiles. “Besides, if I don’t sit here, how can I be sure I’ll get my favorite waitress?”.  
I give the man my brightest smile, and place the servings of food in front of him; and go to clean down the counter.  
“Oh, Lou?”, John calls. “You still haven’t…?”.  
“Heard of any crop failures or more cattle mutilations?”, I laugh softly. “Sorry, no. Not since last time you dropped by, what… two months ago?”.  
“Yeah…”, he mutters. “Just needed to check”.  
“You ask some weird questions for a Wildlife Service Agent. Do cows count as wildlife?”.  
He clears his throat.  
“They’re… free-range”.  
I raise my brows.  
“Ok; well, enjoy your meal”.  
I get back to serving a few other patrons; dropping by table 13 to top up John’s coffee once in a while.  
He seems enraptured in his paperwork; but always smiles brightly and thanks me.  
At closing time I take off my apron, and walk over to his table one last time.  
“I’m locking up in a minute”, I say.  
John is looking out the window; narrowing his eyes at something.  
“I think… could I stick around for a few minutes? I just need to finish something up”.  
I chew my lip.  
“I-i… don’t know. I’m not supposed to…”.  
He grabs my hand, and looks at me pleadingly.  
“Please, Lulu? I’ll throw in another 20”.  
I laugh softly.  
“You don’t have to pay me… I’ll just go work on proofreading my application essay by the counter”.  
John grins at me.  
“You’re finally doing it!”, he says. “I’m proud of you”.  
“Thanks”, I blush. “It’s about time”.  
He nods.  
“This last year, I’ve come through here – what – six or seven times?”.  
I look down, stifling a smile.  
“Eight”, I whisper.  
He raises his brows.  
“Are you keeping track of me, sweetheart?”.  
“You leave good tips”, I chuckle embarrassedly.  
He winks at me.  
“Sure it’s not my charming personality?”.  
I shrug.  
“That might have something to do with it”, I giggle.  
He sighs deeply.  
“If only I was 20 years younger… I should introduce you to my son”, he says.  
“Is he as cute as his dad?”, I ask.  
John laughs his warm deep laugh.  
“He’s… Let’s just say the ladies love him”. He seems to ponder over something. “Actually, you should probably steer clear of him”, he chuckles.  
I wink at him, and grabs his plates.  
“I’ll let you get to it”, I say, and walk back behind the counter.  
I sit over my essay for about 20 minutes, before the bell at the front door rings.  
“We’re closed!”, I call out; looking up.  
A menacing looking man is standing in front of me.  
“The money…”, he grunts, and points a revolver at me.  
I raise my hands in the air.  
“Please… I don’t have any money here. The chef already went to the bank…”.  
“Your tips. Hand them over”, he snarls.  
I have about 50 dollars in my pocket; but I need every cent for my savings.  
My breath hitches, and I look out the corner of my eye, towards table 13. John is gone. I’m alone.  
“I said, hand them over!”, the man shouts. “Now!”. He begins thrusting the gun towards me.  
“Ok… ok”, I croak, and begin sliding my hand into my pocket.  
Suddenly, someone jumps out from the shadows; knocking the man onto the floor. Within seconds, the man is in a headlock; struggling against Johns grasp.  
“Lulu”, John growls. “In the back of my waistband. There’s a gun. Take it!”.  
Rattled, I run around the counter, and lift Johns jacket to reveal the weapon in question.  
“What am I supposed to do with it?”, I whimper.  
“Point it at him, and if he moves; shoot!”, John says.  
I’m half way hyperventilating – panicking.  
“I don’t know how to shoot. I hate guns!”.  
John looks over his shoulder at me.  
“Pull the hammer, press the trigger”, he says.  
“Isn’t there a safety thingy on it?”, I croak.  
“Waste of time”, John scoffs. “Just do it”.  
I pull the hammer, and aim it at the man on the floor. He begins squirming in Johns grasp.  
“Don’t move, you son of a bitch”, John snarls. He looks at me again.  
A bird taking flight outside startles me, and I pull the trigger of the gun – hitting the floor a few feet away from the robber’s head. He instantly stops moving.  
John looks at me again.  
“See? Now you know how to shoot”, he grins. “Keep aiming. I’ll get something to tie him up, and call the cops”.  
The man on the floor begins whimpering.  
“No; please, man!”, he sobs. “I was just trying to… I just needed some cash to get out of town”.  
John sighs; and then gets up; raising the man to his feet in front of him. He grabs his collar, and looks at him with a rage I’ve never seen in any man before. He looks dangerous.  
“You get out of here. Go far away”, he growls; his eyes aflame. “If you even set foot in this state again; I will find you – and I will rip your lungs out with my bare hands. Is that understood?”.  
“Uh huh!”, the man nods fervently.  
“Apologize to the lady!”.  
The robber looks at me.  
“I’m sorry, miss!”, he says.  
John lets the man go, and he runs out of the diner.  
Once we’re alone, John takes the gun from my shaking hands.  
“He’s been staking out this place for about an hour. Waiting until he thought you were alone”.  
“Oh…”, I croak. I swallow hard. “Thank you”.  
He strokes my cheek.  
“You’re welcome, sweetheart”, he smiles. “Is your essay finished?”.  
His change of topic startles me.  
“Uhm… yeah. It’s just over here”, I whisper.  
John walks over, and picks up the handwritten text, and quickly glances over it.  
“Erszebet Bathory – The Blood Countess of Csejte”, he grins. “Interesting subject”.  
I shrug.  
“I don’t know, it was… I just shot at a man”, I say.  
John nods.  
“Yes you did. And you did a half way decent job of it as well. Just try to hit, next time”.  
He stuffs my essay into his pocket.  
“Kansas State, right?”, he says.  
“John, I need that…”, I say.  
He shakes his head.  
“I’ll send it for you”.  
“It’s not finished…”.  
John sighs and shakes his head.  
“For a year I’ve seen you bent over this thing ever chance you had. It’s finished”, he smiles. “You’re a smart young woman, and you’ll get in”.  
I let out a disbelieving gasp.  
“There’s the admission fee…”.  
He grins again.  
“I said, I got it… should have done the same for my son”.  
He pats my shoulder, and goes to leave.  
“John!”, I call after him. He turns around, and I run over, and hug him. “Thank you”, I say, and get on my toes – kissing his cheek. “Your kids are lucky to have you”.  
He furrows his brow.  
“Goodbye, Lulu”.  
He leaves the diner; and I watch him get in his truck, and drive away.  
\---  
Dean was stood leaning against the impala, which was now parked a way down the small road leading towards the house.  
“I thought you’d be halfway to the nearest dive by now”, I muttered.  
“Should be…”, he grunted. “But you’ll just run off with Sam and Bobby, and start hunting monsters; if I don’t stay”.  
“Would that be so bad?”, I whispered.  
“You’re not a hunter, Lou”, he said earnestly. “I don’t want you…”.  
“Getting hurt”, I said. He nodded.

I looked across the masses of old cars strewn across the place. The impala stood parked near the house.  
Dean cleared his throat.  
“We haven’t been able to… talk, properly”.  
“Since I flipped you on your ass?”, I muttered. “Hell, ever since I got here, you’ve been acting like a disgruntled babysitter… I didn’t ask to be brought here, you know”.  
“I know”, he admitted. “It’s like I said. It’s not a good time”.  
“Well, get over it”, I said. “Apparently, I’m in grave danger, and need protection. Isn’t that your gig? Saving my ass?”.  
He chuckled.  
“Seems you’re pretty capable of that yourself”, he said, and stretched his back again. I stifled a smile. “I didn’t know you could do that”.  
“You didn’t stick around long. There’s a lot about me you don’t know”.

We stood in silence for a moment.

“So… Been dancing on any bars or tables lately?”, he suddenly asked.  
“Every chance I get”, I said.  
He nodded.  
“Alone?”.  
I let out a soft chuckle.  
“Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone?”. He didn’t respond. “No, Dean… We didn’t exactly agree to be exclusive; but I haven’t wanted to…”.  
He shook his head.  
“I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask”.  
“Isn’t it?”, I croaked.

He ran a hand over his face and stepped further away from me.  
“I want it to be… God, I want…”. He looked at me. “The way I feel about you; that hasn’t changed. But the circumstances are completely different”.  
“How so?”, I whispered.  
“Me and Sam… we found out some things lately”, he said. “Some pretty earthshattering and life altering things… It’s why you shouldn’t be here… around me”.  
I scoffed.  
“What? You’re not just trying to stop the devil – you’re the living embodiment of him?”.  
Dean sighed.  
“No. that would be Sam”, he grunted.  
My eyes widened.  
“I… what?”.

Dean cleared his throat and looked at me meaningfully.  
“Turns out Sam and I are the human vessels of Lucifer and Michael. The archangels”.  
“You’re an angel?”, I gasped.  
“No! Hell, no”, Dean said. “But I’m Michael’s preferred meat suit. If I say yes”.  
“Are you going to?”, I asked.  
He shook his head fervently.  
“Absolutely not. That’s not happening. Ever”.

I took a deep breath, and blew out my nose.  
“Is that why you haven’t reached out? Are you afraid I’ll run away screaming?”.  
“No, I’m afraid you’ll get hurt, Lou!”, he growled. “Those dicks were coming for you. They’re were gonna try to bargain your life, for my yes”.  
I shook my head.  
“You should have told me”.  
“You were safer thinking I didn’t care”.  
I frowned.  
“But you sent Cass”, I whispered.  
“He wasn’t supposed to make himself known. He didn’t tell me, the winged jerk”.

“He came by so many times… even popped up in the shower with me once”, I said.  
“He what?”, Dean snarled.  
I nodded.  
“Yeah… let’s just say that if he felt any real pain; he’d still be limping from the blow I delivered to his balls”.  
Dean couldn’t hide his smile.

I sighed, and shook my head.  
“Dammit, Dean… Don’t you get it?”, I said. “I’m already in this… And I want to be”.  
“Why?”, he frowned.  
“Isn’t it obvious?”, I whispered.  
He shook his head.  
“No”, he muttered. “It’s not. What do you want with me? Except for the great sex, I’m not exactly a catch”.

He stepped towards me again.  
“You deserve a life, that’s not… this”. He gestured generally around him. “Last week Sam had to fix my dislocated shoulder, after a friggin’ demon threw me against a wall. After that, I ganked a ghost, while nursing a hangover from the half a bottle of scotch I drank, to mask the pain from a bullet grazing my leg… I’m a mess, Lou. Not boyfriend material”.  
“Huh…”, I said. “That sounds… bad”.

I chewed my lip.  
“Do you know what I was doing last week?”, I asked. He didn’t respond. “I was at my friends’ wedding. Raul and Chad got married”. I smiled. “It was beautiful. They had these amazing flower arrangements, an ice sculpture, a live band… People danced and celebrated; and had an amazing time”. I sighed. “And I was miserable. Spent the whole ordeal worried, because I didn’t know where in the world you were, or if you were even alive. I just wanted you there… I mean, you would have hated it; they only played pop-music, but… I wanted to see you, just for a second; to know you were ok – and that you still…”.

“I do…”, he muttered. “Lou…”.  
I tilted my head in exasperation.  
“I know my hurt feelings don’t come before saving the world. I get it”, I said. “But the thought of you not caring… That’s like being cut into and bled dry… Trust me, I know!”.  
His eyes grew sad.  
“I don’t want that… I’m sorry”. He took a hesitant step towards me. “I just want you to have the kind of life you deserve… I did miss you”, he muttered.  
“What did you miss?”, I whispered.  
He chuckled softly, and licked his lower lip.  
“Well, your smart-ass mouth, comes to mind…”.  
“Really?”, I smiled.  
“Yeah”, he shrugged. “It keeps me on my toes”.  
“Good to know”, I grinned.

I went to walk back towards the car; but Dean stopped me – putting a hand on my shoulder. I turned to face him again.  
He looked as if he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come out. He scrunched his brow, then got a determined expression his face.  
“Screw it…”, he growled; and pulled me towards him – planting his lips on mine. My knees instantly went weak from the melding of our lips. It was as if he was almost hungry for me – tugging at my lower lip, and searching for entry to my mouth with his tongue.  
I opened my lips to allow him access; and put my hand on the back of his head, as he snaked his arm around me, and held me close.

I pulled back – and with a look towards the house; which seemed far enough away to give us privacy – I opened the door to the back seat of the car.  
“We can go inside… We don’t have to…”, Dean began.  
“Sex in this car has been on my bucket list since I first saw it”, I grinned.  
Dean looked like he just won the lottery, and moved to let me get inside. He got in after me, and shrugged off his jacket – then met me in a passionate kiss.

Dean put his warm hand against my cheek, making me tilt my head, so he had better access to my mouth.  
As our kiss grew more heated, I put my hand under his arm, and onto his back; pulling him towards me, so he was laying over me.  
He began tugging at the hem of my tank.  
“Dean”, I panted.  
“Mhmm?”, he breathed as his lips travelled towards my neck; suckling at a spot just below my ear, that sent a pulse of warmth straight to my core.  
“Getting completely naked might not be the best idea…”, I said.  
“I think it’s a great idea”, he breathed, and tugged at my earlobe with his lips – while his hand travelled upwards under my tank, finding my breast over my bra.  
“I think… oh, wow. That feels amazing…”.  
Dean began pulling at my cardigan with his other hand.  
“No, Dean, stop!”, I chuckled. “It’s about 50 degrees out here. I’ll freeze”.  
He smirked at me.  
“I’ll keep you warm…”. He put his thigh between my legs, and grinded against my already pulsating core.  
I whimpered as the friction it caused sent waves of pleasure through my body.  
“Just…”, I croaked. “Pants… Just the pants, then”.  
Dean almost growled, and hooked his fingers into my waist band – pulling my leggings downwards – along with my panties; allowing me to keep them on, on one leg.

He looked down at my folds, and let out a pleased sigh.  
“This is probably my favorite place in the world…”, he smirked.  
“Where?”, I laughed. “The backseat of your car?”.  
“No”, he said. “Here…”. He slid two fingers inside me slowly – letting me feel the luscious sensation of his knuckles graze my walls.  
I whimpered, and threw my head back in pleasure.

I wanted to feel him, and opened his belt and the buttons of his jeans – giving me access to the hardness beyond the fabric. With both hands, I pushed at the waistband of his pants and boxers; finally freeing his erection from its confines.  
I took him in my hand, and followed his rhythm in my warmth; using it on his penis.  
I kissed his pleased smile, and our tongues met again – this time with more fervor.

My arm was being squashed by the tight confines of the otherwise quite large back seat.  
“This would be easier if we sat up”, Dean breathed – noticing how I was struggling. I nodded; and in a swift move, he sat up, and pulled me with him – having me straddle his lap.  
He slid his fingers back inside me, and I grabbed his hardness again.

I began riding his fingers, and he used the palm of his hand to create friction against my nub. As I rode, I held his member against myself stroking him up and down as I moved.  
The way we were sitting, and the light we still had from the setting sun; made us able to look at each other as we worked together to bring each other pleasure.

Dean’s hand found my breast under my top, and pulled the cup of my bra down; so that he could tug at my nipple.  
I grinded against his hand, and whimpered – making Dean smile softly at me.  
“God, you’re perfect”, he said.  
I leaned towards him, and suckled at his lip; trying to lead his penis towards my opening with my hand.  
“Not yet”, he breathed. “Let me… I want you to come like this”.  
“Why?”, I whimpered in desperation.  
“Feels… tighter. After”, he smirked.

He pressed harder at my front wall; and I gasped from a sudden sensation of electricity moving from my warmth and through my limbs.  
“Please…”, I croaked; putting my face in the crook of his neck. He kissed the spot of bare skin just next to the strap of my tank-top.  
“Let go, baby”, he whispered.  
His words sent me over the edge; and with a series of breathy moans, his fingers brought me to my climax.

Dean removed his fingers, and my hand from his member. With a firm grab on my bottom with one hand, he used the other to place himself at my entrance; then used both his hands to push my hips down – until he was fully sheathed in me.

I looked at him with dazed eyes, as he parted his lips and let out a gasp.  
I put my hands on Dean’s shoulders, and began moving up and down on him. The feeling of him inside me again was familiar and yet brand new. As if we were built for each other, but were both surprised about that fact.

The furrow between Deans brows as he watched me in awe, made me smile. I kissed it; making him furrow it even deeper in confusion.  
“What was that for?”, he breathed.  
“You’re cute”, I whispered.  
His expression darkened.  
“Cute?”, he said; his voice low – almost menacing.  
I bit my lip, and nodded.  
“I’ll show you cute…”, he said.

He lifted me slightly, and began thrusting into me hard; making me throw my head back and whimper in delight.  
“Tell me how cute I am…”, he grunted.  
“Adorable”, I jeered. He pounded into me hard. “A-absolutely precious”, I smiled. He went harder.  
“Try again…”, he growled; his eyes aflame – with just a hint of mischief.  
“Endearing, even”, I gasped.

Dean pushed at my shoulders, so that I leant my back against the front seat backrest. It made me lift my hips; and Dean hammered into me with such force I began to hear the mufflers squeal.  
“Don’t break the car!”, I croaked.  
Deans thumb found my bundle of nerves, the arching of my back gave him access to.  
I felt my walls beginning to clench around him; and I came in violent shocks around him.  
He put his hand behind my neck, and pulled me close to his chest; still thrusting – and using my orgasm to reach his own.  
Soon after; he let out an almost desperate moan, and came undone inside me.

Dean held me in his arms for a moment; my own arms slack around his neck. He kissed and suckled at my neck; stroking my hair. I shivered from the chilly air in the car; though we had managed to steam up the windows quite well.  
“You’re right”, Dean muttered. “It’s cold out here. Let’s get inside, before you freeze your cute ass off”.  
He reached for some paper towels in a box on the floor; and I lifted myself off him – letting him wipe us both off, with a smug smile.

“What?”, I chuckled, as I put my clothes back in order.  
“You don’t wanna know…”, he grinned.  
“No, really”, I said. “Tell me”.  
He sighed, and tucked himself back into his boxers, and closed his jeans.  
“This isn’t the first time I’ve had sex in this car”, he said.  
“I figured”, I grunted with a crooked smile.  
He raised a brow at me.  
“But it’s probably the first time where I don’t wanna just drive the girl home, and ditch her”.  
I smiled sweetly at him.  
“Aww… I’m flattered”, I said. “I guess that makes me special”.

He grabbed the back of my neck, and pulled me in for a tender kiss.  
“You are”, he breathed.

We got out of the impala, and walked back towards the house; not holding hands, or putting our arms around each other. We didn’t need to. The looks we sent each other spoke more than actions.  
Back inside, Sam and Bobby where going over an old journal. Dean stepped over to join them.  
“Did you two finish fighting?”, Bobby asked.  
“Probably never will”, Dean said quietly, and sent me a look; raising the corner of his mouth. “Dad write anything about mylings?”.  
“Haven’t found anything yet”, Sam said.

I went over to the desk to join them, and looked down in the journal. An old picture was poking out from the side of it, and I picked it up; looking at it.  
The caramel-eyed man smiling back at me from the picture made my jaw drop.

“Why do you have a picture of John?”, I asked.  
The three men looked at me in surprise.  
“You knew our dad?”, Sam breathed.  
I smiled in remembrance.  
“He was my best tipper, back when I waited tables; saving up for college”.  
Dean looked flabbergasted.  
“You must have seen him more than once, if you remember him!”, he said.  
I chewed at my bottom lip.  
“He… came in a couple of times. He was a flirt!”, I grinned.  
Dean groaned.  
“Please tell me you didn’t… not my old man!”. He looked like he was about to throw up.  
I laughed.  
“No… I mean I wasn’t opposed to the idea of it. Your dad was hot, in an older guy kind of way”.  
Dean heaved.  
“I’m gonna be sick…”.

“He was the one that taught me how to shoot… sort of. We took down a robber together”, I said.  
“Really?”, Sam smiled.  
I nodded, and recounted to them my first meeting with John Winchester.  
“He came in quite a few times after that. Paid my college application fee – even sent my essay for me”, I smiled. “I guess now I know why he liked the subject – being a hunter, and all”.

Sam shook his head, and sat down in a chair.  
“I can’t believe you met our dad… and he put you through college”, he said; looking angry for a moment.  
“No, Sam, he didn’t pay my tuition…”, I smiled. “He talked about you guys… didn’t give your names or anything, but he’d say how proud of you he was. Seemed like he missed you. Both of you…”. I looked into Sam’s pained eyes.

Dean looked at me in suspense.  
“What did he say?”, he asked.  
“That he lost his wife… that he had two kids, both boys. One was a straight A student, who’d gotten into Stanford. That was a big deal to him, Sam”.  
Sam scoffed.  
“Yeah? Could have fooled me…”, he muttered.  
“I think he was trying to make amends in some way, by helping me”, I said. “I’m sorry if that hurts you”.  
Sam shook his head.  
“No, it’s fine… It’s just a sore spot still”. He smiled slightly.

Dean swallowed hard.  
“Did he talk about me?”, he asked.  
“Said you were a ladies man, and that I should stay clear if I ever met you”, I smirked. Dean looked embarrassed. “And he told me what a great big brother you were”.  
Sam and Dean looked at each other for a second, before both their eyes dropped to the floor.

“How come he told you so much?”, Bobby asked.  
“He seemed lonely… sad, at times”, I said. “I guess he just liked talking to me. Called me Lou”, I said quietly; and looked at Dean. His lips twitched. “He saved my life…”, I whispered.   
“That was dad…”, Sam smiled.

“When was the last time you saw him?”.  
“After the robber, he didn’t come back”, I replied. “But I got a graduation present of 500 dollars, with a note”.  
“What did it say?”, Dean asked.  
I smiled in remembrance.  
“Thanks for the extra cream. – J”, I said.  
He frowned.  
“What was that supposed to mean”.  
I shrugged.  
“Cherry pie”, I smiled.  
Sam and Dean’s faces both lit up.  
“Extra cream. Always get extra cream with the pie”, Dean said. “And let me guess, bacon; right?”.  
“Every time”, I said.

Sam looked at me questioningly.  
“When did you graduate?”, he asked.  
“About 3 years ago…”, I said. “Why?”.  
“That was just before…”, Dean muttered  
I bit my lips.  
“What happened to him?”, I croaked.  
“He sacrificed himself for me”, Dean muttered. “I died… almost”.

My eyes welled up.  
“Winchesters…”, I muttered. “Always throwing yourselves in the line of fire”.  
“Yeah…”, Sam said. “Thanks… for being his friend”.  
“I always thought I’d see him again someday…”, I sniveled. Dean reached for my hand, and squeezed it. “I could have been your step mom, if I’d played my cards right!” He instantly let go of my hand again.  
“I need a drink”, he grunted; with a terrified look on his face.

We had a drink in John’s honor, and I dried my eyes.  
“Let’s get back to the case”.

\---

I slept on the couch again; not wanting to leave the action. I was used to being awake during the night, but the commotion of the day had tuckered me out.  
When I woke it was only because my head was on a document Sam needed for cross referencing. He lifted my head gently, took the papers, and set down a mug of coffee in front of me on the coffee table.  
“My hero”, I croaked. I looked around the room. “Where are they?”.  
“Bobby’s doing physical therapy in his bedroom”.  
“He does that?”, I asked.  
“Don’t tell him I told you”, Sam chuckled.

“Dean?”, I said quietly.  
“By the car. Your story about dad kind of got to him”, he muttered.  
“Oh”, I whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”.  
Sam grabbed my hand.  
“No… What you told us… That means the world to the both of us… Thank you”. His puppy dog eyes were to cute to ignore. I leaned in, and gave him a hug; where he sat crouched in front of me.  
“I think I’m gonna go talk to him”, I said.  
Sam nodded.  
I grabbed my mug, and went to leave the house.

It was early morning, I noticed, when I stepped outside. The sky was pink and orange; making the scrap yard seem almost magical.

The impala was no longer parked near the house. Tracks in the mud let me know Dean had moved it a way down between some piles of old dishwashers.  
I followed the trail, and found him leaning against his car; staring up at the sky.  
“Always figured you’d be more of a stargazer than cloudwatcher”, I smiled.  
He let out a soft laugh.  
“Just needed some air”, he muttered. “Thank you… for telling us about my dad”.  
I smiled.  
“He was a good guy… I’m sorry he’s gone”.

Dean looked out the corner of his eye at me. I handed him my mug.  
“Are we good?”, I asked; as he took a sip, handing it back to me afterwards.  
He licked his lip, and took a deep breath.  
“Last night… that was amazing”, he smiled – but there was a hint of standoffishness in his voice.  
“But…?”, I breathed.  
“I don’t this it’s a good idea for us to keep it up”. He looked up at the sky. “My dad was right. You should stay clear of me”.

I wanted the earth to swallow me.  
“This… us. Is it over?”, I asked with a raspy voice.  
Dean frowned – his forehead a map of emotions I couldn’t define.  
“Honestly, Lou… Maybe it should be”.

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.  
“Ok. If that’s what you want…”, I whispered.  
He shook his head.  
“It doesn’t have anything to do with what I want”, he said exasperatedly. “We’re fighting the end of the world here…”.  
“I thought it was just a myling”, I grunted.  
Dean sighed.  
“Bigger picture, Lulu… I’m trying to keep you alive”.  
“By ending it…”. I closed my eyes.  
He went over to stand in front of me; and I opened my eyes to meet his pained ones.  
“You and me; it may have started even before we thought”.  
“What do you mean?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Look, I’ve already been through two near fatal incidents with you guys. On top of that, there’s the whole you going to Hell, and coming back – and the fact that I have angels and demons out to get me… I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will surprise me by now”.

He cleared his throat.  
“You meeting our dad… It’s too much of a coincidence”.  
“It’s a small world…”, I muttered.  
“Not that small”, Dean grunted. “Our family – generations back – has been moving towards this point. Me and Sam. Michael and Lucifer”.  
A chill ran down my spine.  
“Like… fate?”, I asked.  
“Ever since Abel and Cain… Angels made sure we would be born; put our parents together”.  
“What does that have to do with me?”, I asked.

“You met our father, became his friend – hell, you even flirted with the man”. I smirked in remembrance. “Please stop. The thought is still creeping me out”.  
“Sorry”, I said, and stifled a smile.  
He swallowed hard, and looked green for a moment.  
“Years later, I meet you, and we develop this connection… have earthshattering sex”. I frowned. “Sweetheart, it’s earthshattering, admit it”, he smirked.

I took a deep breath.  
“You’re saying angels put us together?”, I asked.  
“Maybe… yes”, he said. “It just makes me think that this – whatever it is we have – it’s not real. It’s all in the hands of some winged deuches, with too much time on their hands”.  
“And that’s bad… how?”.  
“Free will? Real emotion? None of that matters to you?”.  
“Angel’s didn’t make me fall for you, Dean”, I said. “You did”.

He shook his head.  
“I wish I could believe that”, he croaked. “I really do. You’re… like made for me. Your personality, your interests, you’re into hunting now; hell, even your hot ass body…”. I blushed in glee, and simultaneously felt strangely exposed.  
“I’m not…”, I began.  
“To me, you are”, Dean said, brows raised in earnest. “That’s the problem. It’s too perfect… I don’t want you to want me because some jerk angel told you to… And I don’t want to want you, because of the same reason. You having come across my dad as well… It just screams angelic intervention”.

I looked into the car; the backseat – where hours before – we’d made love. Or was it love?  
“Maybe you’re right”, I whispered.

Suddenly, we had company. The trench coat wearing angel was looking at us intently.  
“Have you had intercourse yet?”, Castiel asked.  
“Cas! Seriously, dude!”, Dean groaned.  
“Good. Then we can get back to work”.

“I’m gonna go back inside”, I muttered, and left the two men.  
“Lou…”, Dean called after me.  
“I’ll be in the house”, I said, not looking back at him.

\---

Bobby and Sam were filling shotgun shells with salt at the kitchen table. Sam looked up at me; and instantly narrowed his eyes.  
“You good?”, he asked.  
I nodded and faked a smile.  
“Uh huh…”, I said. “How are we with getting me back home?”.  
Bobby raised a brow at me.  
“You still have Heaven and Hell tracking you”, he said.  
I shrugged.  
“I don’t think that’s an issue anymore”, I said.

I went into the living room, and looked down at some of the papers strewn across the desk. Articles on crop failures and cow mutilations. I winced in remembrance of my conversations with Dean and Sam’s father. He’d been looking for demons all along, from the looks of it.  
I saw one about UFO-sightings; with handwritten notes in the margin.  
“Angels? Trickster?”. The word trickster was scratched out, and “Gabriel” was written underneath it.

A warm hand landed on my shoulder.  
“What’s wrong?”, Sam asked.  
“It’s over”, I said. “You don’t have to worry about me”.  
“What happened?”, he said with a dark voice.  
I looked down.  
“Angels… it was never real”, I whispered.  
He sighed.  
“Is that what he thinks?”, he muttered. I nodded.

Sam shook his head in exasperation.  
“I love my brother, but he’s an idiot”, he said. “Doesn’t matter what put you in our path. You’re here now; and I for one am happy you are”.  
I smiled sadly.  
“Yeah?”, I said.  
Sam squeezed my shoulder.  
“Back when Dean went to Hell… I was a mess, and I needed a friend. You were that friend. You still are”. He kissed my forehead. “That’s not gonna change any time soon”.

I looked into his eyes, and saw John smiling back at me.  
“You remind me of him…”, I said.  
“Who?”, Sam asked.  
“Your dad. Too much heart for just one person”.  
He smiled, and looked down.  
“Thanks”.

Dean and Cass came back in the house. My now former lover met my eyes for a second, before looking down.  
“Cass has a lead on Death…”, he muttered.  
Sam looked at his brother coldly.  
“Dean…”, he began.  
“Not now, Sammy”, Dean said. “Please”.  
I grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed it.  
“It’s fine”, I smiled.

I walked over to the angel.  
“When can I go home?”, I asked, not meeting Dean’s eyes.  
“I can take you right away”, he said.  
“What?”, Dean frowned. “What about the celestial hitmen? And demons, for that matter?”.  
Castiel looked at his friend calmly.  
“Gone since yesterday afternoon… I contacted the right people. Lulu will be safe. But she should keep the sword”.

My jaw dropped.  
“Since… yesterday?”, Bobby said. “Oh, balls; Cass!”.  
“Yes”, Cass said.  
“We could have avoided…”. I wanted to say breaking my heart, but decided to halt myself. Dean clenched his jaw.  
“Dean needed you. You’ve done your part”.

I was ready to throttle the angel right there and then.  
“Take me home”, I rasped. “Now”.  
“I can take you”, Dean said.  
“No”, I said. “You have a ghost to get rid of; and Cass has wings. He might be able to get me back in time for me to salvage whatever job and life I have left there”.  
Dean tried for a hard expression, but failed.  
“I’m sorry, Lou”.  
“Goodbye, Dean”, I said.

I looked at Cass, and nodded.

\---

I was standing in my apartment. Alone.

Looking around me, I saw that my things had been searched through – drawers were opened, and my books and CD’s where strewn across the floor.  
My front door was slightly ajar; and I stepped over to close it. I heard a fluttering of wind behind me; and once I turned back around, I saw the angel sword laying on my kitchen table.  
“Thanks, Cass”, I whispered into the air. He hadn’t stayed to chat – and I was grateful.

I leant back against the door – slid down to sit – and let my tears fall.

\---

A few months later.

He wakes up from another nightmare. One where his brother – in fact both his brothers – fell into a hole in the ground.  
When it’s not the hell-pit, it’s the dream where the girl – the perfect girl – smiles at him, kisses his cheek; and then disappears – leaving a gaping hole in his heart.  
Grabbing the still half full bottle of whiskey by the motel bed; he takes a sip – when his phone rings.  
After seeing the number – he picks up the call.  
“I’m still alive…”, he grunts.  
“Haven’t heard from you in three days, son… You promised you wouldn’t go dark on me”, his friend responds. “What have you been up to?”.  
He looks at the bottle in his hand.  
“Dancing on tables”, he mutters.  
“Getting any sleep?”, his friend asks.  
“Too much…”, he says.  
“I’m sorry, Dean… But you need to move on”.  
He clenches his jaw.  
“I don’t want to talk about it”.  
“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me, find someone else. You’re a mess”.  
“Who?”, he croaks.  
There is a pause.  
“You know who…”, his friend says.  
He stands up and runs a hand over his face.  
“You know I can’t do that”, he breathes. “I can’t see her”.  
“She’s the only one…”.  
“I said, I can’t!”, he roars.  
He hears his friend sigh.  
“Now you listen here, boy!”, he snarls. “That girl made you happy! Sam is gone; but that don’t mean you’re alone! You can have a life, a good life; but you choose not to – because of some horse crap about angels… She is your salvation, son!”.  
He sighs.  
“I know…”.  
“Then, get of your ass, and go get her!”. His friend hangs up.  
Many hours later he is in Denver; having driven through the night. He doesn’t even know if she’ll take him back. And he’s not convinced she should.  
He sits in his car outside her building, working up the nerve to go inside; when a man in too tight jeans, a leather jacket and a fedora walks out of the door; holding it open for a woman behind him.  
She’s wearing a summer dress; looking like she stepped right out of his dreams.  
She takes the man’s hand, kisses his cheek; and smiles.  
Dean starts his car; and drives away.


End file.
